Name? Lost It.
Where did you lose it? Fish Creek Park ....at the end of 24 Street
When did you lose it? 21 July 1997...
How did you lose it? It was quite a tedious process actually ... involving a few people, mixed sex,
mosquitoes, beer, ice lollies (i.e. popsicles) .. let me think, I may be able to unravel the mess ...
There were a lot of people to begin with, they must have been eagerly amassing well before the hour, for as BABY and I drove in, there weren't any significant vehicles en route, but the many were there ... strangely the sexes seemed to have strayed apart, Middle Eastern style, the haves (females) in one group, the have nots (guess who??) in two and threes ...
LAPDOG spieled awhile about runs, and new boots (HEATHER, DEAN and DON), and visitors (Edmonton's FRENCH TICKLER), and sundry happenings, and ceded the focus of short-lived circle attention to Hares WANNABEE and BLACK RABBIT, PUSSYKILLER having retired to his sickbed for the duration.
ON ON was called in a slight north-easterly direction, perhaps this is where chaos ensued. The flock (Hashers have been known to resemble livestock on many an occasion) overran a short check back, unintentionally uncovering the ON IN trail and proceeded to run it backwards, with great enthusiasm, gusto, etc, etc. Being occupied with a plum or two, or three, and severe misgivings about drowning in orange juice prior to the run, I was content to follow the rear (or rears). Thus I tailed or was passed by PEEKABOO, PERFESSER, VON KRAPP, SQ, TQ, KNOBSLINGER, NEON, BOBBIN, ON IN, SHACK SHOCK, SKEWBIC HARE, COCKY WHORER, FURRY THING, MUDFLAP, FRENCH TICKLER, DEAN AND DON, GOLDILOCKS, KRUSTY, PYRO, MYDOL, LAPDOG, 007, BLUEBALLS, A NICE COUPLE, KING SHIT, PTOOEY, POLE VAULT, H.O.T. DOG, WHALE WANKER, SLIPPERY ARMPIT, GOOSEBUMPS, BABY, 16$ A NIGHT (US), HARDLY, TWISTED SISTER, THAT, FLOATS 'EM, SUCK HER, STEVE, and a hasher with a FULL MOUSTACHE, and just about everyone who was there, except for the strollers (CLUTCHBAG and BAGLADY) and strollees (SUPERSOAKER and BAG O'POO), who had taken off in a different direction altogether.
The ON IN trail, run in reverse, was on entertaining terrain, a long single file, through deepening grass, then uphill, winding in and around trees, with a strong l'air de chevaux and the odd dropping. I confess my preoccupation with deciding to pee or not to pee in those fragrant surroundings somewhat detracted from my following the marks, if not the cries of ON ON, as hashers ventured up and down, across and across and across and still across creek, crashing through the undergrowth, and bulldozing their way along hill top. There was in fact a select regroup atop the hill, where popsicles awaited those who gained the crest, and mosquitoes dined alfresco on unwary Hashers.
As I neared my descent to the creek, the cries of ON ON were more piteous, the flour more plentiful, I glimpsed WHALE WANKER ploughing through mud-covered bracken (not really, but it sounds nice) and vanishing into the distance. Attempts to follow in his footsteps (size 11's?) led to a car graveyard (I know I'm not that desperate for transportation!) so I backtracked and came up and across the stroller/strollee combinations mentioned above, happily chatting on their merry linear way. Joining them as they ambled intentionally through another checkback , we chanced upon that currency churner, 16$ BUCKS A NIGHT (US!) who assisted in negotiating SUPERSOAKER's chariot down a particularly unwieldy descent. Have you ever noticed how those two, the SOAKER and the POO' BAG, quite enjoy their chariot treks, being slewed around by the likes of ON IN and the hell-bent-for-leather PEEKABOO?
Somewhere along this route we "ran" into a flustered SHACK SHOCK who apparently had descended one of the hills at the steepest and muddiest point and managed to lose her part of the pack. Our amiable group of five plus two halves ventured forth along a "true" trail but soon came to grief at a check at yet another bridge (there were a couple of them, I'm told).
With untrue trails in every which direction, we were flummoxed (isn't that another nice word?) and firmly held the check as the pack descended upon the bridge from every which direction having gained the bridge well before us and scouting further. Ugly mutterings about burying the hares, and dire Hash Shit consequences were rife; passing cyclists were enlisted in scouring the track for marks but this too provided futile; I believe this was the point at which most hashers (myself not included) concluded we had indeed progressed on the trail in true arse-ways fashion, and headed back the way they had begun. Having actually caught up with the pack, so to speak, I was determined not to misplace them again, and pounded off in the wake of fast-disappearing muddied sneakers, in line with PYRO and the now cooled-down SHACK SHOCK.
We met up with BOBBIN ROBIN returning from a false trail check, and golly, golly, more of the pack - KINGSHIT, the aforementioned PEEKABOO, SQ and others, who with rallying cries and the odd horn-blow (WHALE WANKER filling in ably for a conspicuously absent holidaying DREARY and his HORN) crossed the creek yet again to clamber up the hill on the far side to trek the route we had so diligently followed down in the first place (and which some had traversed a few times!!)! Up the hill, more horse manure, through the trees, and out on to the path again, and who should we see but TWISTED SISTER and her companion out for a leisurely stroll, and some very nice shorts, VON KRAPP.
I do declare, VON KRAPP, I followed your directions!! Go LEFT, you said, and so I did, which made for an interesting jaunt up a red path, and back and forth and back again, and up the hill (just in case you meant RIGHT when you said LEFT, and there were flour marks going up hill) halfway to those humoungous residences, and then down again , and along the red path, and back again, as ON IN cries faded slowly in every direction. Happening on the creek again, and the bridge, from the water's edge was quite by chance, not unwelcome, with PERFESSER and V. KRAPP in tow, Hash Heroes verily, to guard against the denizens of the forest (one inebriated alleged BC-ite with dog, and hysterical teens)!! Such excitement, I say, I only wish I could regale you with tales of WHITE or BLACK KNIGHTS, and RAMPANT ORGIES (the sex and beer part) but alas, there was none of it, this time!! Your concern was much appreciated..
Naturally, the On On at GATOR's was off to a delayed start, there was also the issue of keys not being accessible ~~ KNOBSLINGER presided, with THONG Q assisting as keeper of the RA beer ~~ with recognition of the HARES; and NEW BOOTS; and VISITOR; and my little walk in the woods; and Hash Heroes (of which there were two, but PERFESSER downed his in style for both himself and VON KRAPP); and GOOSEBUMPS for wantonly procreating (with some help) and BLACK RABBIT was awarded the Hash Shit (gleefully handed over by SKEWBIC) and then unceremoniously stripped of it, with SKEWBIC regaining possession for failing to tote the emblem of shame while on the run. And BOBBIN affirmed the steak sandwich was not bad, if one ordered a rare for a medium!!
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